


Crossing Lines: A Welcome to the Punch Story

by LB714



Category: James McAvoy - Fandom, Welcome to the Punch (2013)
Genre: F/M, Het, male/female - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3279782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LB714/pseuds/LB714
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max Lewinsky and Sarah Hawks are partners, detectives on the London police force. When a case heats up, so does their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossing Lines: A Welcome to the Punch Story

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by a scene in the James McAvoy film Welcome to the Punch, in which the characters Max and Sarah almost kiss. It was a very intense moment, and James played it perfectly, infusing those seconds with more sexual tension than I’ve seen in entire movies. After watching that scene, I began to wonder what would have happened if Max and Sarah had kissed and Sarah didn’t go off on her own and gotten killed. What follows is my version of the events.

Max tilted his head as though seeing Sarah for the first time. No, not the first time. He’d always found her attractive, but it never occurred to him to act on the attraction because they were partners. This time, he was seeing a side of her that perhaps had always been there but that he had purposely ignored.

He leaned in, testing her. Waiting for her to back away. She stood her ground. He moved closer. Her eyes were locked on his. He closed the gap with his lips, and still Sarah didn’t move.  
“Max,” she whispered, her breath touching his lips.

“Sarah,” he responded. They stood there for a minute, kissing and blocking out the rest of the world, then Max moved away and time resumed and Max became Detective Lewinsky once again. He ordered Sarah to stay at the hospital and wait for him to return while he chased a lead. She made a half-hearted attempt to argue with him. After all, they were partners, equals, but something in his voice, a kind of desperation, made her listen.

For the rest of the afternoon she watched over Ruan, but her mind kept going back to the kiss. What were they doing? Was it just a momentary thing? Would there be an awkwardness between them the next time she saw Max?

But when Max returned he was all business. Since neither of them had eaten since early in the day, Max suggested they grab some takeout and go back to his place so he could fill her in on what he’d learned about the case so far. Sarah was reluctant at first. Better to quash this before things went too far.

"Come on,” Max said, as they headed toward Sarah’s car. “You have to eat sometime."

“Fine,” she surrendered, “but I’m driving.”

A short time later they sat on the couch in Max’s living room surrounded by half-empty containers of Indian food. Max updated Sarah on Sternwood’s whereabouts and Sarah told Max that Ruan was still in critical condition, and then there was silence, with Max, his arm thrown over the back of the couch, gazing at Sarah and Sarah gazing at Max. He leaned in and kissed her.

Sarah put her hands on Max’s chest and gently pushed him away. “We shouldn't,” she said firmly.

Frustrated, Max rubbed his forehead. “We're not doing anything wrong.”

“We're partners,” Sarah said, emphasizing the last word.

“Exactly,” said Max, his eyes lidded and his lips curving into a smile. “Stop thinking so much.”

He kissed her again. This time she let him, and soon he took her hand and walked her into the bedroom. Slowly, silently, they undressed each other. Max kissed them over to the bed and laid Sarah gently down. They made love, quietly, sweetly, and when they were finished, Max, exhausted, put his head on Sarah's chest. Sarah stared up at the ceiling and played with his hair.

“You're all sweaty,” she remarked.

“You make me hot,” Max replied, kissing her neck. He closed his eyes, sighed, and resumed his position.

After about thirty minutes Sarah moved as though to get up. Max stirred and murmured against her skin.

“I should go,” said Sarah, impatiently.

“No, stay,” said Max, keeping his head where it was.

“We have to work tomorrow.” After a moment, Sarah stopped trying to get out from under Max. Truthfully, she enjoyed having him need her like this. Usually Max was so guarded, so in control. He seemed almost vulnerable now.

“I'll make you breakfast,” he teased. She could feel his smile against her skin, his beard tickling her chest. Sarah rolled her eyes. She knew it was useless to fight him.

In the morning, Max’s eyelids fluttered open against the light streaming through the window to the right of the bed. He opened his eyes to discover he was alone. The side of the bed that had been occupied by his partner was now cool under his hand. He fell back against the mattress, disappointed, but then a noise coming from beyond the bedroom door startled him to action.

Max rummaged around for some clothes and found his pants from the day before at the foot of the bed. When he opened the door, he saw Sarah's back to him in the kitchen. She was clad in his shirt, only his shirt, and busy with a pan of eggs. Max smiled slyly and approached from behind, snaking his arms around her waist, and kissed her neck.

“I was supposed to make you breakfast,” he murmured against her throat.

“I didn't want to wake you,” she replied, picking up a piece of crispy bacon that was draining on a plate and feeding it to him over her shoulder.

Max chewed the morsel quickly and swallowed. “I'm awake now,” said deliberately and kissed her.

Sarah turned back to her cooking, spooned scrambled eggs onto a plate and handed it to him. “I'm going to take a shower. Then I'm driving back to my place to change. I'll meet you at the station.” She headed to the bedroom, Max staring after her.

“I could join you,” Max called out.

“We'll never make it into work.”

Max held up a forkful of eggs and muttered, “You say that like it's a bad thing.” Max leaned against the counter and nibbled his breakfast, contemplating the night before. Not a bad thing at all . . .

****************

Holding the paper sack in one hand, Sarah wrangled her key ring from her coat’s right pocket with the other. She still wasn’t quite used to having Max’s key. He gave it to her because they were partners and there might be times when she would need to retrieve files or some other work-related item from his flat, but she thought that was just an excuse.

“Max?” she called out, not too loudly in case he was still sleeping. She put the bag on the kitchen counter and noticed that bedroom door was shut. Still sleeping. With a smirk, she approached. She didn’t want to be late again. She was aware of the mumblings at the station and caught more than one snicker from the other detectives when she and Max arrived together. Max didn’t seem to notice or care. Max did what Max wanted and didn’t give a shit what anyone thought. And that’s one thing she liked about him. The other was . . .

She was going to knock, but then decided he’d slept long enough. “Max,” she started, as she swung the door inward. She was about to say more but stopped, blinking.

Clad only in his underwear, Max sat on the edge of the bed, a long needle protruding from his swollen right knee. Sarah knew he had to drain it regularly, a result of the gunshot wound he’d endured three years ago.

Max’s head shot up. “What are you doing here?” he said angrily.

“I-I brought those pastries you like from the bakery,” she replied quietly.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He removed the needle and tossed it angrily into a frying pan he’d put on the floor. He couldn’t look at her. She wasn’t supposed to see this.

“Max,” she said, moving into the room.

He turned his head away, heat rising in his face.

She knelt before him and turned his chin to face her. His whiskers were prickly in her palm. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Yes, there is, he thought. He thought of it as his deformity, and although she’d seen his scar, the hideous scar with the impression of the bullet that never quite healed, he never intended for her to see him in this vulnerable state, to see what Sternwood’s injury had done to him.

Tentatively, she removed her hand from his face and brought it to his knee. Max flinched.

“Don’t,” he said, grabbing her wrist.

Sarah wrenched it free, noting that Max didn’t put up much of a fight. “I’m not afraid of it.”

“You should be repulsed,” spat Max.

“Do I look repulsed?” She ran her fingers lightly along the indentation in his knee and up the jagged line of the scar.

Max sighed and leaned back on his elbows. Sarah looked up at Max’s face and then placed a gentle kiss on his knee. Max closed his eyes. “Sarah,” he said quietly.

She ignored him and began to kiss her way up his scar and along the inside of his thigh.

Despite the humiliation he was experiencing, Max grew hard.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly, leaning back on his hands and growing more restless with each second Sarah’s lips touch his skin.

“Shhh,” she replied, her breath tickling his leg. When she reached the top of his thigh she brought her hand to the flap in his underwear and reached inside.

With a sharp intake of air, Max shivered. Sarah licked her lips and went to work. When she put her mouth on his heat she tasted his loneliness.

Max soon forgot his shame and instead was lost in ecstasy.

******************

Max opened his eyes and yawned. He was about to stretch but stopped himself in time. Sarah’s head rested on his chest, her breath slow and steady. She was here. She hadn’t left after they made love. She hadn’t run from him and his baggage, at least not yet. There was still time. For now, he wouldn’t think about it. They had a case to work, and maybe, just maybe, this time Max would get his man. This time, he wouldn’t be alone.


End file.
